


Red Carpets, Martinis, and the Stars in Their Eyes

by kuro49



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: M/M, charles!James, erik!Michael, flirty friendship, i don't know anything about film making, this is unfiltered fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-22
Updated: 2011-09-22
Packaged: 2017-11-02 00:30:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/363032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are just true and genuine people trying to make a living in the eyes of millions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Carpets, Martinis, and the Stars in Their Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> This is borderline friendship McFassy. In my mind, they've already eye-fucked a dozen times or so already.

It is all fun and games, glam and glitz.  
  
Or so they wish.  
  
He can pretend he can dance when he really only knows the simple one-two-two-one beats behind the lyrics of another love crazed song. And he can imitate all the accents he has ever heard with practice but they are just funny sounds with overlying words. This can be talent or something different all together.  
  
But it isn’t in them to decide.  
  
It is the million pairs of eyes that are staring right through them in between pixels of pretty colors.  
  
“James.”  
  
Brown hair, blue eyes, red lips all turn to him, and he is very much human and so very flawed.  
  
“Are you ready?”  
  
Michael plays an ambiguous card and knows James will understanding just that. James’ lips curve into the most ironic smile, eyes glinting with mischief as he replies.  
  
“Let’s find out.”  
  
And it is like he has stolen the words right out of his mouth.  
  
000  
  
He can treat this as another job but then he will have to pretend nothing ever happened between the shots where Erik is broken on levels Charles can’t reach and there really should be an actor’s manual on how to do this.  
  
But this is all a part of their creative drive.  
  
There are miles and miles of ocean behind his back and a man who looks a whole lot like James McAvoy in his arms. But he isn’t him or at least not this moment because Charles Xavier is consuming and he has taken hold of James when the film starts rolling.  
  
And the cameras are focused.  
  
“We want the same thing.”  
  
His voice is hoarse and he doesn’t know where these emotions are surfacing from. But they are here, and they are real and Michael lets it control him. Erik Lehnsherr tightens his hold on the one thing that is only beginning to matter now that he has damaged it.  
  
Does visual enhancement work in real life by the way? Because those eyes are really too blue, he thinks to himself and finally edges away, all the way, to let Erik Lehnsherr take over the last thought all on his own. He appreciates the sentiment but thinks of something much more flattering.  
  
A bright summer sky, the crashing waves of a Cuban beach that isn’t actually on Cuban soil.  
  
Michael likes to think he is just really in character and those thoughts are his own.  
  
“My friend,” and it is always those kind words that will break him, “I’m sorry. But we do not.”  
  
There is still courtesy and consideration and if Michael is really Erik, he will shoot himself for being such a dick.  
  
He doesn’t hear the cut or any of Matthew Vaughn’s commentary at the lighting crews. Michael only surfaces from Erik’s composure as James sits up from his lap and gives an easy stretch, only to be restricted by the tightness of the blue and yellow jumpsuits.  
  
“I think I got sand in my mouth.”  
  
He comments as he lies back down, Xavier’s demeanour dissolving away with each passing word.  
  
“It’s all over your cheek.”  
  
And he is already brushing away the sand with the back of his knuckles. James doesn’t pull away, he only furrows his brows and asks. “Is it working?”  
  
“No, hardly I have sand on my hands too.” He holds up both hands and the sand is a mismatched pattern of yellow and brown all over his palms.  
  
“You fuc—!” James sits up abruptly and nearly bangs his head on the helmet Michael is still wearing but his lips are twisting into a well-intended grin.  
  
And they both pull back to laugh.  
  
000  
  
They are four months into filming before James notices something strange.  
  
It doesn’t happen regularly, just in random occurrences. Michael will light up cigarettes after cigarettes, letting them burn to the butt before dragging the very first breath of nicotine.  
  
James isn’t fascinated, he is just curious.  
  
Because the man smokes and he drinks and he is exactly the person James never wants to become. He thinks of his child, the boy with eyes as bright as hers and knows temptations as temptations because responsibilities always ground him. And he may be younger than the other but it is only a difference of two easy years.  
  
“Are you aware of the health hazards?”  
  
Michael turns at the question, raises a brow and takes a slow drag from the half burnt cigarette between his fingers.  
  
“I can’t help it.” He shrugs his shoulders, breathes out and finally stands up straight from the side of his co-star’s trailer he has been using as support. “Nasty habit I picked up and can’t get rid of.”  
  
“Have you tried?” James pulls the collar of his jacket up but it does little to keep in the warmth.  
  
“Once? Twice? I don’t have the discipline for these kinds of things.”  
  
He laughs and it’s loud.  
  
James smiles even when he should be scolding him for the air of second-hand smoke he has been forced to endure for the past months. Still, he is not a lecturer by nature. Tilting his head to catch the other’s gaze, the question is almost too simple.  
  
“Are we heading back to set?”  
  
“Let’s make a detour for the food first. I just woke up.”  
  
Michael yawns as an emphasis.  
  
“Mmm, same here.” He pats his stomach and walks along the familiar paths.  
  
Even though he only lives about forty minutes from the set, he doesn’t want to make the trip to and back in a span of three, four hours. Sometimes he tries to come home to kiss his son good night or good morning in most cases, other times he much prefers sufficient sleep, cheap wine and the company of Michael Fassbender.  
  
“Are we doing the scene where we flip around in the plane?” He makes a motion with his hands and it is too wild to make sense but it is still too early for his brain to be sharp and the weather is still too cold for anything really.  
  
“Yes, and then I turn into a giant human magnet and pin you to the roof of the plane.”  
  
He groans at the memory of the last time they have been strapped into that monstrous excuse of a plane and spinned round and round, like clothes in the laundry dryer. It hasn’t been fun, but it is part of the job description. Their shoulders bump as James leans over, head dipping down and Michael can see a clear span of skin and neck before James continues with his Scottish or lack of censorship.  
  
“I am going to vomit on you.”  
  
“Sexy, James.”  
  
Michael lets out an easy laugh and he doesn’t know what it is but he catches the shiver that runs up James’ spine. And without another thought, he pulls him into his arms and this is just friendship.  
  
“Come here, it’s cold.”  
  
And they are just close enough to blur the lines.  
  
XXX Kuro


End file.
